After the Bomb
by oren-lahm
Summary: What happens to Sylar after Season 1 ends? What happened to Peter? And who's this new kid Sylar's met? Includes MadeUp
1. Sewer Damage

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes or it's characters in any way shape or form. However, the made up in this story is completely mine. Kthanks.

**Summary:** Takes place after Season One. What happens to Sylar as we see he escaped from the police once again? What will Sylar do when he finds out that Peter has lived and is even a bigger threat now than ever before? (Contains Made-Up)

**Author's Note:** I guess this is kinda like Season Two written in my own style. I hope you guys like it. If you do, i'll do my best to continue the story. Enjoy!!

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Chapter One

The bloody trail led right to the manhole. By the time the cops had noticed, it had almost completely dried itself into the cement. When they finally looked in the underground sewer, the waste had washed away any evidence they could have used. Their only hope at catching the fugitive was to search the sewers for any kind of lead.

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The putrid smell filled his nostrils as he hit the flowing water. Blood stained his face and clothes along with bits of waste the longer he stayed in the stream, the more he felt nauseated. Breathing heavily and feeling weak, he pulled himself out of the sewage onto the narrow walkway on either side of the stream. It took all of his remaining strength; and by the time he was fully out of the waste, Sylar felt as if he could still die at any moment. He could feel everything he'd eaten come back up through his throat, invading his mouth with the sickening taste of bile.

He could feel the gaping hole in his abdomen where Hiro had stabbed him. He was clutching it tightly, trying to slow down the blood flow, but he could still feel it slipping in between his fingers. All he had to do was hold on for a bit longer… He would gather his strength and then find another way out. Sylar could see black spots appearing in front of his eyes; coughing, he could taste the thick blood lining his throat, and suddenly, he blacked out.

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Sylar awoke to find himself in a small bedroom, facing the ceiling. Disoriented, he forgot the moments of last night and almost thought he was Gabriel Gray again. But when he sat up to view his surrounding, he could feel the stab of pain run through his chest. Carefully maneuvering so that he wouldn't feel any pain (excluding the major headache he'd developed), he moved so that he was sitting upright with his feet over the side of the bed.

The room wasn't as small as it first looked. The wall opposite Sylar had a single window masked by dark curtains; underneath the window was an old desk with drawers overflowing with papers. Papers also lined the floor at random spots, making the room appear very untidy. A small light hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room and on the right wall there was a closed wooden door.

The room was painted a light green color and the floor was hardwood, giving Sylar chills as he placed his bare feet on it. Standing wearily, he made his way over to the window and peered out. What he saw let him know that he was still in New York, but thank God no longer in the sewers. It seemed the building he was on was a first floor of flat near the outer-edge of Manhattan. The more he walked around, the more the blood began flowing, and it wasn't long before he was able to move just about anything in the room.

A sharp sense reached the watchmaker's ears, ringing throughout his head in an annoying pattern. The noise came from outside of the room, beyond the wooden door; Sylar opened the door without moving and listened even harder, though it wasn't difficult to notice that there was someone else in the flat. He approached the small corridor outside of the room which led to what seemed to be a living room attached to a kitchen. Sitting on the couch in the living room was a boy with short blonde hair and glasses reading a _US Weekly _magazine. When the boy sensed Sylar's presence in the room, he turned his head to look.

"Good morning," he said in a monotone voice, returning back to his magazine, "I almost thought you'd be out for another day or so…" Sylar was puzzled. Who was this kid exactly?

"What happened to me…?" he asked quietly. The boy, however, did not answer his question. Instead, he neatly folded his magazine, placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch, arose from his seat and faced Sylar.

"I think it would be more appropriate to start with introductions first." He extended a hand, "My name is Ferris Thujon."

Sylar looked at the outstretched hand as if he had never seen one before. After a long moment of debating whether or not to take the hand, he extended his own hand to meet the other's. "Sylar."

Ferris smirked. "Formerly known as Gabriel Gray, you used to fix watches in your spare time until recently you discovered that you were meant for something more, oh say, killing special people to steal their abilities."

He was stunned. Face draining of all color, he jerked his hand back, not feeling at all comfortable around this boy. Ferris noticed.

"Don't worry about how I know that. That's another story. But, I guess you're wondering why the hell you're here. It's like this: the sewer system happens to be the most convenient way to get around the city, but no one knows it. I use it all the time and I never have to worry about any traffic and other delays. Well, while I was on my way to the other side of town, I stumbled upon a man, bloodied and passed out. That man happened to be you," he pointed to Sylar, who stood still, unimpressed by the fact that this kid was crawling through sewers.

"Anyways, I saw you and I couldn't help but wonder why you were down there. It was most certainly obvious that you were hurt, so I dragged you back to here and cleaned you up a bit. But of course, all this was a few days ago. You've been out for nearly 4 days, most likely."

None of this made any sense. Sylar didn't carry around a wallet or anything important, so how did Ferris know about what he used to be? But before he could wonder about it any more, the boy moved past him and into the kitchen where he could be heard rummaging through the refrigerator. Sylar took the moment to sit down on the couch.

"I don't have too much food, so I hope this will suffice," Ferris said, tossing him half of a hoagie wrapped in foil. The watchmaker didn't have the heart to eat at the moment. He still had a massive headache, and his stomach still felt like it was gushing blood.

As Ferris at his half of the hoagie, Sylar examined him more closely. Behind the thick rimmed glasses he was wearing, he had sparkling green eyes; he was wearing a blue pullover hoodie that had darker blue circles painted all over it. For his lower half, he donned a simple pair of black shorts that cut off at the knee. In contrast to Sylar's bare feet, he was wearing thin ankle socks the just barely fit.

Ferris wasn't very tall for a 19 year old, in fact, he was rather on the short side. He wasn't very athletic, but he also wasn't large. Just in the middle. "If you're not feeling well, I can give you a bit of anesthesia. It'll probably make you sleepy though…"

Sylar nodded his head wearily. Flashbacks of the other night played like a movie in his head. _The bullets from Parkman… Peter aggressively punching him… Hiro appearing… the pain that followed… _It all seemed too clear. Ferris appeared at his side with a cotton ball and a tiny jar. All he had to do was hold the cotton a few inches from Sylar's nose before his enhanced senses picked it up. Sylar hadn't even made it back to the bedroom yet, and he could feel the numbness coming on. Before he knew it, he was passed out on the hallway floor.

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**A/N:** Like I said, if you like it, please comment and tell me, and i'll write more. Thanks!! uber huggles


	2. Fallen Star

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters from Heroes whatsoever. So you can't sue me. P Nyah!

**Author's Note:** So, this chapter pretty much focuses on Peter. I wanted to kind of let you guys know what happened to the others, and I hope I did a good enough job. Next chapter I'll continue the Sylar storyline.

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He couldn't breathe. There was almost no oxygen _to _breathe. It seemed like an eternity he spent just floating around the atmosphere before he eventually felt gravity pulling him back to earth. He felt nothing, remembered nothing, not even so much as thought anything until he saw the country below him like a map. Peter remembered now, and looked for Nathan who was no where to be found. 

At first, Peter thought the worst: Nathan was dead, exploded into pieces. But as he began to make his descent back to Earth, he thought that maybe Nathan just had fallen already. Maybe Nathan was already safe and on the ground waiting for him to come down. He'd be standing there, with his arms open to give his brother a hug; they'd just saved New York- His fantasy stopped when he realized that he was plummeting head-first to Manhattan from about 26,000 feet in the air. His brother's face reappeared in his mind, and about 100 feet before he hit the ground, he stopped mid-air. Thank God for those lessons from Claude.

Slowly gliding down the remaining few feet to the top of a building, he scanned the area before collapsing. Nathan wasn't here. He ran to the edge of the building and looked down, but all he saw was a busy street. It was the same way with the other edges, only two of the sides displayed an empty alleyway. He looked back up into the night-sky, not that it would help at all to see if Nathan hadn't fallen yet, but he felt some kind of reassurance, and odd peace when he saw the few stars that dotted the sky.

Through the hatch, down the stairs, and out of the building he went. Recognizing street signs, he saw that he was a ways off from Kirby Plaza. Preferring not to fly, he called a taxi. The driver stared at him, though, wondering why Peter's clothes were torn and shabby while his skin seemed to be unscathed. The driver ignored it, however, and in a few minutes Peter stepped out of the vehicle. Searching his pockets, he realized that he had no money. The driver was nice, though, and let Peter go since they only went a few blocks and the mimic seemed like he was in a hurry.

Kirby Plaza was deserted. Claire, Hiro, Niki, even Sylar was gone. No sign of Nathan either. Peter scanned the area and scouted out the nearest hotel. That's probably where the families were staying for the night. Maybe they would know about Nathan or Sylar.

No one by the name of Bennett, Sanders, or Hawkins was registered in the hotel log. Where else would they have gone? The hospital. It seemed to click once he remembered Parkman, how he was shot by his own bullets. Peter cursed himself for wanting to fly, but he didn't have any other choice. He lifted off the ground and zoomed into the air quickly so no one would see him. The hospital was almost 30 blocks away, but Peter was there within seconds. Rushing into the E.R., he saw Niki, D.L., Micah, and a teary eyed Molly sitting in the waiting room. Niki looked over and noticed Peter first.

"H-How…?" was all she managed to say, wide-eyed with amazement, "How are you here? The explosion…"

"Claire," as soon as he said the word, she understood. "Where is everyone? Where's Nathan?" he questioned, but the look on her face was a grim one.

"Mr. Bennett's being looked at by a doctor, so Claire is with him. We," she motioned to the others sitting behind her, "are here because Molly wanted to make sure that Parkman was going to be ok." Peter looked at Molly; it was blatantly obvious that she had been crying. Micah was sitting next to her, talking gently and trying to calm her down. What a good kid…

"What about Nathan?"

"Peter, Nathan's dead…"

Peter didn't believe it. He _couldn't_ believe it. Nathan… dead… This wasn't Niki… It had to be Jessica, playing some sort of cruel joke…

"He came down almost immediately after.. Well, you know…" she said, seeing the tears well up in Peter's eyes. "I'm so sorry Peter…"

Peter left without saying goodbye. He ran out of the waiting room and flew into the air, disregarding the people watching. He flew far and fast until he was out of Manhattan and on New Jersey turf. He kept flying, however, tears dripping down his cheeks as he did so. _Nathan…_

When he finally stopped, he was on the New Jersey coast, about 35 miles south of New York. He fell to his knees in front of the water and screamed. No one heard him. First Simone, now his brother. His own flesh and blood. Who would run the city now? And what would they say happened? 'Nathan Petrelli dead in freak car accident.' No one would ever know how he really died… How he died as a hero, saving New York from another 9/11.

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Peter awoke when he felt the cold sea water reach his arms. He'd fallen asleep on the beach, far away from New York in some little known town. Sitting up and sliding back from the water, he brushed the sand of off his arms and legs; he dreaded the thought of going back to the city, but he knew he'd have to. The others would be worried.

It took a lot longer to get back than it did to get away. When he did, the first thing he did was return to the hospital. Niki, D.L., and the two kids were no longer there, probably resting in a hotel. He went up to the desk and asked for a visitors pass to see Noah Bennett, which the receptionist gladly gave him.

When Peter walked in, the first thing he saw was Claire sleeping in one of the chairs next to her foster father's bed. He was awake, and addressed Peter when he walked in.

"Glad to see you," Noah said, picking up his horn-rimmed glasses from the bedside table and placing them on the bridge of his nose. Peter mumbled in return. "I'm sorry about your brother, Peter. It was a very... unfortunate loss. I can't do much to help, but I can tell you what happened to everyone else. Mohinder is in the lab where we kept Molly while she was sick. He wanted to do some research or something. Hiro… well, I don't think anyone knows what happened to him. And as for Sylar, well all we know is that he got away. We can't be sure of his exact location, but we're having the authorities look into it now." Peter thanked him in the most sincere way he could manage,

Claire stirred in her seat, and slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was her uncle_. Am I dreaming…? _She thought. There was no way Peter could have-

But it was really him. She leapt out of her seat and nearly tackled him with a death-grip hug. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes again. Claire did the same; almost in unison they both started sobbing into each other's shoulders. An overwhelming sadness had come over the both of them, but it was revived once they both felt each other's hospitality. It was nice to just relax for a bit…

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**A/N**: Ok, so I wasn't exactly sure about how I wanted to end this, so I know it's not all that great. But thanks for your reviews, I hope you guys liked this chapter as much as the first! More to come... 


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